


I Put My Life In Your Hands

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold wants to relive the moment John had him by the throat, in more erotic circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Put My Life In Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potc/gifts).



> (WARNING: This fic contains breathplay/erotic asphyxiation in a risk-aware, consensual scenario. If this squicks you, please do not read. And obviously _do not_ try this at home. John’s an expert on chokeholds and Harold’s absolutely done his research, but I haven’t, so I can’t say that this is remotely accurate. Fiction fiction fiction.)
> 
> References that moment from The Pilot, but set much later in the show, certainly after 2x13, when they've had time to learn to trust each other to the furthest of extremes.

"You want me to do what?" John's voice had gone especially low and quiet, which was a clear sign that he was furious.

 

"Just to try it." Harold qualified, knowing he should retract the proposal but unwilling to, just yet.

 

"I nearly killed you, Finch! That's my worst memory with you and you're...You already have pins in your neck? And you want me to squeeze it?"

 

"You could pinch my nose and I'll hold my own breath if you'd rather not touch my neck..."

 

John took two steps back, shaking his head. "No, Harold, no. People have died from this."

 

"I'm aware. But I've weighed the risks and I _trust_ you, John."

 

John looked stricken. He stared down at his own hands as though they were foreign, wild creatures. "I don't trust myself."

 

Harold frowned. "I'm sorry. The last thing I want to do is upset you. Forget I mentioned it."

 

"No, it's...I...you know I'll do anything for you." He carefully stood close again, nudging their faces together until their cheeks brushed. He wound his arms around Harold's waist, loosely. He spoke quietly near Harold's ear. "Just don't ask me to hurt you, please, I can't."

 

Harold held him in return, stroking his palms across John's bowed shoulders.

 

\---

 

A week later John came to him again about the matter.

 

"What if you did it to me first? I might better understand what the appeal is for you, that way."

 

"Oh, John, it's okay. I've already said you don't have to consider this. It was a foolish curiosity of mine, and I've no desire to make you uncomfortable..."

 

"No, just, hear me out, okay? You could put a bag over my head. I'm trained for that, I can keep calm."

 

"I wouldn't enjoy forcing you to relive torture scenarios simply for my benefit, Mr. Reese."

 

To Harold's surprise, John quirked a smile. "Well presumably I'd be getting off too, Finch. I've not engaged in this kind of sex since my Army days, but I can still enjoy a bit of risk when it's only me at stake."

 

Harold tutted. "It doesn't make me feel better to hear that. There's no such thing as _only_ you. You're the most precious thing in the world to me, and I'm sorry I opened up this line of conversation."

 

That derailed John's counter offer entirely. He spent the next twenty minutes kissing Harold all over, repeatedly murmuring "The most precious thing, huh?" and teasing Harold for admitting something he would have thought was fairly obvious. Clearly he needed to say it out loud more often.

 

\---

 

"So, we're clear on the plan?" Harold found himself saying, sitting in his bath robe two weeks later, when they'd discussed it back and forth and inside out until they had contingencies and safeguards and compromises galore. "You'll constrict the carotid arteries either side of my neck for eight seconds - "

 

"Five," John said, revising their agreed timeframe down yet again. Harold opened his mouth, about to argue, then he nodded, conceding to John's nerves. Most likely it would still be enough.

 

"What happens if you need to safe word and you can't speak?" John reiterated firmly, because this was one of the factors that most concerned him.

 

Harold repeated his answer just as calmly. "I'll tap your arm three times, S for stop."

 

John kissed him slowly and sweetly, but he was trembling with suppressed emotion. "I love you. I want to make you feel good."

 

Harold rested his hand over John's thudding heart. "It will all be fine, John. Thank you."

 

John bravely gave him a smile, undid the robe's belt and slid it off Harold's shoulders so that he was naked. Then he helped Harold sit in the middle of the bed.

 

John sucked him until he was fully hard, then Harold took over, jerking himself quickly and fiercely while John settled behind him on the bed, legs either side of Harold's, Harold leaning back against John's chest. He felt himself on the brink of orgasm by the time John folded the crook of his arm in front of Harold's neck. Harold rested his chin there with all the trust he possessed. He wanted this so much and he was so lucky to have a partner who was willing to do this for him. He gripped John's arm, just as he had done with his back against the wall in that hotel room, except this time he wasn't trying to keep John away. He took a long, deep breath, and held it, and John squeezed. The chokehold was not so tight as to hurt him, but tight enough to restrict blood flow. John began to count in his ear, starting from one. He'd removed his glasses so the world was already fuzzy around the edges, but it began to grow fuzzier, and the fear of that made it feel _better_ somehow, because he knew what was happening and was prepared for it. It was like slipping into a trance, a beautiful higher plane where no worry could touch him, no guilt or responsibility could weigh him down. There was just John's warm skin across his throat, his heartbeat at his back, and as John counted four his free hand touched Harold's cock, a barely there caress that had Harold struggling not to let go too soon...

 

John reached five and carefully released him. The flood of oxygen and built up carbon dioxide rushed to his head. It was like fireworks, like electricity, as though he could feel all of his synapses firing at once, every possibility, every molecule of life and inspiration existed in Harold's mind at that shining moment.

 

Harold breathed out. Simultaneously, he let go of the hold his fist had on his cock and came so forcefully his ejaculate cleared the end of the bed.

 

He turned to jelly in John's arms for a while, panting heavily while John stroked him through the aftershocks. John's nose was buried in his hair, a torrent of sweet nothings flowed from his lips.

 

It was some time before Harold felt able to speak again. When he did: "Oh, my. That was quite the experience. Thank you for taking me there, John."

 

\---

 

The next day John was quiet over breakfast, stirring his coffee more times than was necessary, staring blankly into space. One of his hands was flat on the table, and it was this which Harold covered with both of his own, stroking reassuringly with his thumbs. John jumped and met his eyes, and he looked afraid again. Harold's heart sank. He himself remained in a post-orgasmic glow ever since, feeling as though the universe had revealed a dozen more of its infinite secrets, but John did not climax last night, and moreover the guilt seemed to be creeping over him despite all the work they did in the past few weeks to alleviate his fears.

 

"Talk to me," Harold prompted, and John sighed.

 

"Sorry, I don't want to spoil it for you."

 

"Shhh, you're not spoiling anything. Please don't bottle this up, I'm right here."

 

"I still could have killed you last night." John said, darkly.

 

Harold had to concede that he was right. It had been a distant possibility, if John had decided to squeeze and squeeze. But he never would have. Harold was more certain of that than his own name. Even when John did not know him from Adam, when Harold had just played a brutal mind game with him, John had spared him. "You didn't."

 

John let go of his coffee mug and rested his other hand on top of Harold's. "I was, um, I was reading about how addictive this...rush that you experienced, can be? I want you to promise me...don't ask me to do this again? Once was scary enough, for me. And don't...don't try it again alone because you'd rather spare me."

 

Harold's eyes widened. "Oh, goodness, no, once was enough for me too. My curiosity has been satisfied, I promise I won't need to go near this again."

 

John ducked his head, breathing deeply, visibly relieved. "All this trust you put in me, I'm not sure I deserve it."

 

"On the contrary, I think you have proved that you undeniably do deserve it. And also that you trust me, far beyond what I could ever have expected, when we met. You allowed me to lead you far out of your comfort zone, simply to make me happy - that's more trusting, and more selfless, than you know."

 

"Finch," John croaked, his eyes swimming.

 

Harold stood, holding onto John's hands, and leaned across the table to kiss him on the forehead. "Come here, John. You did so much for me last night, let me take care of you now. You're understandably unsettled by this and I would like to be sure you're back on an even keel before new numbers come in. And because I...want you to be happy, instead of attempting to hide your hurts from me. Come and sit with me for awhile."

 

John stood and allowed Harold to guide him onto the sofa, where he curled up with his head in Harold's lap. Harold stroked his hair and told him again and again just how special and treasured he was, until the tension bled from John's frame and the darkness faded from his tired eyes.


End file.
